


Iston i nîf gîn

by sas



Series: Femslash February Prompts [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Margaery, F/F, Femslash February, It's really slight but maybe I should tag it anyway?, Model!Sansa, Neighbours, Tumblr Fic, Tumblr Prompt, casual mentions of murder and torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sas/pseuds/sas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mstoker asked: Margaery/sansa Neighbour who's way too enthuisiastic about LOTR soundtracks au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iston i nîf gîn

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this is how you say "I know your face" in Elvish. Don't ask, I suck at naming things.
> 
> So, in this, Sansa and Arya have grown up a bit and, while they're still really different and annoy each other, they're sisters and they love each other.
> 
> Also, this is another fade-to-black-y scene because I can't write smut.

“How’s the moving in going?”

Sansa barely caught the question, too busy riffling through the take-out menus that were left in the apartment. Seeing one for a thai restaurant, she shut the drawer and hummed before finally answering her sister.

“I just finished putting away the stuff from the last box.”

“How does it feel?”

“Weird,” she laughed. “I have my own apartment. That I own.”

“Well, you worked hard for it. I can’t wait to see it.”

Sansa looked around her. The apartment, and everything in it, had been paid for without help from her parents. She had put so much effort into making the space bright and comfortable. She surrounded herself with pictures (only some of which were of her most impressive shoots or covers), trinkets from home, books, candles, and blankets her mother had made.

“It’s great, I’m really happy about it.”

“What about the area?”

“It seems okay, it’s so much warmer here than at home.”

“What about your neighbours?”

“Haven’t met any of them yet, but it sounds like the person across the hall is having a Lord of the Rings marathon or something. My walls have practically been shaking with the noise of the music all day.”

Arya laughed, and soon the conversation moved on to different things: how Arya was doing at school, when she had planned to come visit King’s Landing, Sansa’s next shoot, how Bran’s OT was going. It was only when Sansa’s stomach grumbled that she decided to hang up. They said a quick goodbye and promised to talk later in the week.

Without the noise of the phone to her ear, the music once again seemed louder than necessary. She checked the clock on her kitchen wall, and realised that it was only nine thirty, and probably too early to complain—especially on her first day in the building. So she pushed the irritation to the back of her mind, poured a glass of wine and ordered dinner.

Two hours and four glasses of wine later, the music finally stopped and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, falling into bed and realising how exhausted she was.

She had imagined that her first morning in her new apartment would be leisurely. She had nowhere to be, nothing to do except get comfortable in her new surroundings. She had hoped she could sleep late, maybe take a walk around the area, meet some of the neighbours. When she woke up abruptly at eight am, she felt as though she could physically see those plans dissolving in front of her.

The wall beside her bed was thrumming, and the whole bed was softly vibrating. It sounded as though a full orchestra was set up just behind the wall, blaring out epic symphonies. Sansa sighed in frustration and dove beneath the covers, pulling a pillow around her ears.

Fifteen minutes later, she gave up. She dressed quickly, and grabbed her keys. She decided to have breakfast out. She could have her “first breakfast” in her new kitchen the next day.

“Ar, I swear to God I’m going to kill whoever lives in that apartment.”

“It can’t be  _that_ bad.”

“It’s been five days.”

“Do they ever sleep?”

Sansa opened her third bottle of wine that week and poured herself a large glass. “I don’t know. The music has stopped two or three times, but at really weird times. Maybe they sleep with it on.”

“Here’s a thought: you could go over and ask them to turn it down.”

“I don’t want to be  _that guy_ , though. I only just moved in.”

“They probably don’t know it’s bothering you, or that you’re even there. Go over, introduce yourself, and just politely ask that they turn it down a bit, because beauty sleep is very important to you.”

“What if they’re using that ridiculous music to hide the sounds of screaming because they’re torturing someone in there?” Sansa took an excessively large mouthful of wine and fought to swallow it all.

“Sans, stop being such a baby. And I can hear you inhaling that wine. You have a shoot in two days, you need to get some rest.”

“Fine, fine, but if I don’t call you in fifteen minutes, I’m probably going to be found in the woods in a week.”

“I’ll put the search party on stand-by.”

* * *

It seemed to Margaery that it was always when she had finally gotten into the zone that something broke her concentration. This time it was an persistent hammering on her door. Behind it, a beautiful, willowy redhead stood looking flustered and anxious. Margaery felt like she had seen her before, something about her hazel eyes were very familiar.

“Uh, hi.”

Margaery tried to push down the annoyance she felt at the interruption, and leaned as casually as she could against the doorframe.

“Evening.”

“I’m Sansa, I uh, I just moved in next door.”

“Oh. Well welcome to the building.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Her incessant fidgeting amused Margaery; she appeared to have the confidence of a small woodland creature. 

“I was just wondering, uh, would you mind turning the music down a bit?” She quirked her perfectly-shaped eyebrow quickly, before her face fell. “It’s not that I mind it, it’s just, I guess these walls are really thin and I’m only asking because I have a big job in a couple of days and I kind of need to get some rest and—”

Margaery held her hand up to silence the redhead. “Sansa? I’m not offended. It’s not a problem, I just find it relaxing.”

“I can see how it would be,” Sansa nodded before mumbling, “at a normal volume.” Her defiant comment caused a furious blush to rise high on to her cheeks, and Margaery found it even more endearing than the fidgeting.

“Would you like to come in?”

* * *

Sansa shot a brief text off to Arya, to let her know that, for now, she was safe. The inside of the apartment was different than what Sansa had anticipated. Although it was dark, as she had imagined, it wasn’t an oppressive darkness. The shades and curtains were drawn, but bright lights sat all around the room, giving the space a warm and welcoming feel. The air was thick with a smell that Sansa couldn’t place at first, until she saw the easel and palette set up behind the couch. Canvases that hold half-finished paintings sat on almost every surface. The epic, sweeping music was still playing, and from inside the room the bass reverberated through Sansa’s whole body.

Margaery silently picked her way across the room and switched off the hi-fi, leaving the room buzzing with silence. She smiled warmly at the redhead, and inclining her head asked, “better?”

Sansa nodded and attempted to move around the room without upsetting anything. It seem there were art supplies perched on most of the flat surfaces in the room, and the last thing she wanted was to knock over a pile of books and have the open tube of paint end up squashed and staining the hardwood floors.

“Wine?” the artist’s voice rang through her thoughts, bringing her out of her train of thought.

“Sure,” Sansa smiled.

“Hope Riesling is okay, red gives me terrible headaches. I can’t really afford to stay in bed all day tomorrow.”

“I’ve never been a fan of red.”

Sansa watched her pour two large glasses and slide them across the breakfast bar. Her smile, Sansa thought, was somewhere between a smirk and a warm smile, and seemed innocent and wolfish at the same time. She watched the artist sit down before speaking again.

“You did all of these yourself?”

“If you count all these half-attempts as actually ‘doing’.”

“I think they’re lovely.”

Margaery hummed in response. “What about you?”

“Utterly talentless,” Sansa shrugged, sipping the wine.

Margaery laughed, a musical and sparkling sound. “I meant what do you do for a living?”

Blood rushed to Sansa’s cheeks. While she was proud of her work, she hated talking about it in casual conversation. She hated to think that anyone thought she was conceited. “I uh, I do some modelling work.” She dropped her head, trying to cover her face with a curtain of red hair.

Margaery slapped her hand against the countertop so hard that the sound made Sansa’s heart stop. She jerked her head up to look at the artist, who was smiling victoriously.

“I knew it! I knew I recognised you. I saw you on the cover of Nylon, in that Ferretti gown, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my god. So beautiful. Did they let you keep it?”

“Nah, but they sent me this amazing lilac shift when they found out the cover was a success. I’ll show you some time.”

“You have to!”

The conversation lulled, and they both sipped at their wine. Just as Sansa began to feel her previous embarrassment seep away, Margaery spoke again.

“I was sorry to hear about you and your girlfriend, uh—I’m sorry, I don’t remember her name.”

“Dany. And thanks. It wasn’t actually that big a deal. The media is weird about that stuff. Like, we’re seen kissing in public and we’re just ‘gal pals’, and then we turn up to an event with other people and we’ve had some nasty break-up.”

“That must be tough. She’s a model as well?”

“Yeah, but she works abroad a lot. That’s mostly why things didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Margaery frowned, moving her hand quickly to cover Sansa’s.

“Honestly, no big deal. What about you? Is what I hear about artists true?”

“Probably,” Margaery smirked. “Which part are you referring to?”

“The lively love life.”

“Oh, you know. Just waiting for the right person to come along.”

As Sansa reached for her glass to finish the dregs of her wine, Margaery topped it up. The conversation came easily between them, and before either of them realised it, they had finished the bottle of wine. Sansa balked as she noticed the time.

“I’d really better go.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll show you out.”

At the door, Sansa turned around, her breath catching as she realised how close Margaery stood to her.

“I’ll uh, I’ll probably see you around the building.”

“Yeah.”

“Or I’ll, you know, come by and show you that dress.” Sansa’s tongue felt dry and thick in her mouth.

“Of course. And I’ll try and keep the music down. Feel free to come shout at me if I annoy you anymore.”

“You didn’t… It wasn’t… That’s not—”

“I’m joking.” That half-angel, half-wolf smile made its way across Margaery’s face again, and Sansa had never felt more like a lamb.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you soon.”

Before Sansa could turn toward the door, Margaery leaned forward, her head coming right into Sansa’s space. Every muscle in her body tensed, unsure of what was happening. It was only once she heard the door open behind her that she could breathe again. The shock was so evident on her face that Margaery was prompted into a short laugh.

“Goodnight Sansa,” she rasped, and held the door wide for the model to escape, red-faced.

Sansa shut her door and fell with her back against it. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. She knew that the air had felt charged with  _something_ and that when the artist had moved, Sansa had assumed that she was moving to kiss her. She didn’t know why she assumed that; she didn’t even know if she  _wanted_  that. She barely knew this girl, knew only what she did and that she really, really like the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. She laughed at the thought. She knew she was artistic, and funny, and definitely charming. They had common interests, and she had a smirk that would make a statue weak at the knees. Confused, but strangely happy, Sansa moved to make her way to her bathroom, reviewing the night. She had just reached the door when she heard it.

At first, she thought it was a joke, but as the sweeping music stayed playing, her aggravation returned. After they had just had the lovely evening they had, where they talked and—possibly—flirted for hours, she turned the music right back at the same volume.

In a rage, Sansa flew across the hallway and slammed her fist against the door. The artist answered it so quickly that Sansa thought she could have been waiting on the other side.

When the door opened, Sansa started, “Are you serious ri—”

What she was planning on saying was lost as the artist pressed her lips softly against Sansa’s open ones. After a moment, Sansa kissed back. The kiss was easy, but Sansa felt it down to the ends of her toes. She pulled back to down at that smirk again.

“I forgot to do that, before you left. I thought it was a good way to get you to come back.” Margaery’s voice was low, gravelly, as she said it.

“You could have just called over.”

“This way was more fun.”

“Mm.”

“Want to come in?”

“Want to turn that music off?” Without waiting for an answer, Sansa crushed her mouth back against the smaller girl’s, urging her backward into the apartment and kicking the door closed behind them. They giggled and kissed their way through the living room, where Sansa pushed her down onto the couch, slipping herself between her thighs. Their kisses became more urgent, hungrier. However, Sansa could not lose herself in the kiss. She leaned up on one elbow, pulling away from the brunette under her.

“What? What’s wrong?” Margaery looked concerned, and the genuine worry on her face made Sansa laugh.

“I really need you to turn off that music. It’s killing the mood.”

“Fine!” Margaery sighed dramatically and pushed herself passed the redhead. Sansa watched her move across the room, with a smile on her face. With the music now silenced, and with Margaery making her way back toward the couch with dark eyes, Sansa smiled.

“By the way, one more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“You never told me your name.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can come talk to me on Tumblr. Send me headcanons or prompts (though February was busy so I'm only filling half my FF prompts now)
> 
> tepidwaterdialogues.tumblr.com


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